Tuesday, May 12, 2015

Come and Get Your Love #eroticromance

Coming June 24

Come and Get Your Love

Erotic Romantic Comedy

** Come and Get Your Love will be available through Booktrope **


Their desire wasn’t supposed to be real…

With millions willed to her in an incentive trust, Lissa can get the dough to start her own country music label when she meets one of the no-contest clauses. Namely, reach middle age in twenty years, work in the hated family business for a decade, or marry someone not in the music biz.

Marriage it is, at least for a year to satisfy her greedy brother who wants the inheritance.

Enter Cass, a hot Texas rancher who dampens Lissa’s panties. With a pile of medical bills from his brother’s accident, Cass agrees to wed Lissa. She’s sweet to look at, surprisingly pleasant for an Atlanta debutante, and makes his jeans feel tight as hell despite their no-sex contract.

Uh-huh. The devil’s in the details. Longing gazes turn to tender intimacy and wild nights with pretend feeling all too real.

Damn shame it may be too late with her brother gunning for them both.


“You want to call this off?” Auggie rubbed her shoulder. “It’s not too late. Nothing’s been signed. You know how I feel about you. You and I could get married.”
Aw, Auggie. Every few months or so, he’d offered the same even before the trust had come up. He’d been in love with her for too many years. She lowered her hand. “You know I adore you with all my heart, don’t you?”
His shoulders slumped. “As a friend.”
“My very best since I was five.”
No way would Lissa complicate their relationship or risk hurting Auggie by pretending to have feelings for him that didn’t exist. He deserved the real deal in a girlfriend and wife, which Lissa simply couldn’t give. Hooking up with a stranger who needed cash, not her, was the only way to make this fake marriage work. Especially when it came to Willy. Her brother would never buy a love match between her and Auggie after all these years. Willy would know the wedding was a ploy for Lissa to get her share of the trust.
Auggie’s sigh said he’d wished things were different. “I guess this is where I’ll be finding you for the next year.”
Suddenly, Lissa couldn’t breathe. “Do you know how long a year is? Couldn’t I file for divorce in, let’s say, two or three weeks?”
“A year will be far more believable, Lis. Truth is, I’d say two or three—”
“Good lord, I’ll take the year.”
“Then all I can say is—welcome home.”
Lissa finally turned to the windshield, prepared to see rotting carcasses of once-thirsty cattle and the shack Cass Bronson lived in.
Her lips parted. A line of tall cottonwoods marched up either side of the graveled drive that had a quaint Victorian at the end. It was two stories, painted white with dark green trim and surrounded by hundred-foot pecan trees. Surprisingly pretty.
Someone waited on the wrap-around porch.
She dug her fingers into her seat as Auggie drove toward the steps and a man wearing a tan Stetson, a clean white T-shirt, cowboy boots, and snug jeans.
Lissa tried to swallow, but couldn’t get her throat to work. The prize behind his fly dried up all the spit in her mouth. She imagined his rod and balls hanging free. Those suckers must be enormous. Dragging her attention up his flat belly, Lissa stared at his impressive pecs, muscular biceps, broad shoulders, then looked at his face.
Her mouth sagged open at his strong jaw, straight nose, lushly lashed eyes, and shadow of beard that made him beyond virile, straight into drool-worthy. “He’s beautiful,” she breathed. “Downright gorgeous. Thank you.”
Auggie looked as if she’d lost all sense.
Oh hell. “That guy’s not Cass Bronson?” He was a ranch hand? A brother? Cousin? Neighbor?
“What’s it matter?” Auggie asked. “This is purely bus—”
“I know. But he doesn’t have to be repulsive too, right?” Lissa jabbed her thumb at the cowboy on the porch. “Whoever he is, I want him as my pretend husband even if he just works here. God, did you ever see such a big man?” He was easily six-three and squinting at her.

Cass leaned to the left, but the sun still reflected off the car’s windshield, hiding the passengers from him. Not that it mattered since he knew who they were. An Atlanta debutante who wanted to get around a trust and her attorney who was helping her do it. Sweet Jesus, what had he gotten himself into?
It wasn’t like Cass to engage in fraud of any kind. Before the lousy drought, the drop in beef prices, and then his kid brother’s problems, he’d been doing well. Now, not so much with no financial institution wanting to help. Only the Bank of Lissa Lee had answered his appeal.
Now that she was there, Cass wanted to run.
He was certain she wasn’t only spoiled, but probably had a voice that would shatter safety glass, not to mention looks only a blind mother could love. Her attorney had refused to send Cass a picture of her, warning him not to search for one on the Internet.
“This is business,” he’d said in a soft yet nasty voice. “If you look into Ms. Lee at all, I’ll know, and the deal’s off.”
Cass hadn’t been certain whether the man had been blowing smoke or not, but couldn’t risk it. He’d told himself to be a good boy for the attorney and a bad boy for Lissa while also making a mockery of marriage. That wasn’t like him either.
He was ready to go back inside the house and throw the lock when the driver’s side door popped open and a balding blond guy got out. “Mr. Bronson?”
Unfortunately. “Uh-huh. Mr. St. Claire?”
“That’s right.” He went around to the passenger door and opened it.
Cass took a deep breath, reminding himself this was necessary to pay the bills, keep the land and house. He wasn’t even expected to consummate the—
His thoughts stopped dead at the young woman who stepped out.
Her hair fell in soft waves to her waist and was the color of a Texas sunset…shimmering red with a few gold highlights.. The dress she wore was short and sleeveless with a scooped neck but no shape. Didn’t matter. A stiff breeze pushed the pale yellow fabric against the faint curve of her tummy, smallish breasts, and tightened nipples.
She wasn’t wearing a bra.
Cass’ cock went instantly stiff, while his gaze prowled down her. Damn, he couldn’t detect a panty line either. Now his rod was beginning to ache. He glanced lower still.
Lord, but she had nice thighs, slender calves, and ankles too, not to mention tiny feet in her wedged sandals. They added about three inches to her height. Barefooted, she’d be one mighty small woman.
As she shifted her weight, which couldn’t have been more than a hundred and twenty pounds, Cass glanced up to see her creamy complexion—not one freckle—and one of the prettiest faces a woman could have, along with a surprisingly vulnerable expression. As though she wasn’t certain he’d approve of her.
How could any normal man find her lacking?
Her eyes were pale blue, circled with dark lashes, her nose as delicate as the rest of her features…all except for her mouth. It was pink, her lips as full as Angelina Jolie’s, and looking to be hotter than this day.
He swallowed.
“This is Ms. Lissa Lee,” Mr. St. Claire said.
Cass had to hold back a grin of delight since this arrangement was supposed to have zero fun, and she looked kind of daunted. Poor thing. Feeling oddly protective, Cass wanted to assure her that everything was going to be all right, but hadn’t a clue how it could be. They were supposed to live together in wedded un-bliss for a year, which meant they were both going to be celibate.
Somehow, Cass hadn’t thought of that until now, and suddenly realized he was fucked big time. Holding back a sigh, he took off his hat and went down the steps to claim her.


jean hart stewart said...

Wonderful excerpt...how could anybody not want to read this?

Kayelle Allen said...

Ooooh, I love cowboys. I love the song this title brings to mind, and did I mention, I love cowboys? Plus... cowboys! ^_^

Tina Donahue said...

Thanks, Jean!

Thanks, Kayelle! I'm with you - LOVE cowboys. :)

Fiona McGier said...

Looks like a hot one, Tina. Is this the one the Thunderclap is for? Looks like once folks hear about it, everyone will want to read it. And with your trademark hotness, they're in for a real treat!

Tina Donahue said...

Hey, Fiona! Nope, the Thunderclap is for Erotic Takeover. I'll be doing on for Come and Get Your Love shortly. :)

Glad you enjoyed the excerpt!